I’m not a texist. Honestly, some of my best friends –hell, family – are Texans. Some would classify me as Texan given my middle and high school residencies, but that leaves room for debate. Besides, being a Texan doesn’t preclude anyone from being a texist. People have hated what they are for centuries, be it denial or brainwashing.

That isn’t the point though. The point is that I’m not a texist. The point is that I love a whole lot about this place even as I don’t want to live here. There is more than friendliness here, there is warmth. Maybe it is just my little nook of Houston but given that I’ve been more than visitor in this state for years, I know it extends beyond these city limits.

There is art. Natural beauty. Diversity.

Saying it all like that I can almost forget that this is about me not wanting to live here. The bigger issue with texas isn’t what it lacks, mostly it is what it is…it is my childhood. It is a pre-me me. And I know that doesn’t even make sense but in some ways it really does. I mean, dough is a pre-bread bread and really Houston is where I was dough. Where I was kneaded together and left to rise. And I rose. And then I went elsewhere to bake.

The reality is that I went elsewhere to be kneaded too- cali, England, florida- but the bulk of the rising time was in texas and so I associate it with all the early missteps and heartaches, my childhood habits that I’ve struggled to leave behind but that somehow rear up whenever I’m in…you guessed it…texas.

Maybe the true sign of growth would be me staying here. Maybe the ultimate growth is maintaining the me I claim to be when I’m in the place that reminds me most of the dough I was…but maybe I’m just not that keen on demonstrating.

Mostly my heart craves to be home. My heart craves to be in a place where my life, though slightly odd, isn’t really odd at all. No husband no children no problem.

The military brat in me knows that this can be true wherever I end up. I’ve been the new girl enough times to know that if you have no choice you can dig in you can navigate and excavate and figure out home.

But I don’t wanna…

Having finally figured out home as a geographical – GPSable – location and not simply wherever my family’s love encompasses me – I’m reluctant to give it up. Check that…I’m gonna fight like hell. And if that makes me a texist…well…I can live with that.